Something Old, Something New
by shnuffeluv
Summary: Used Book Store AU: Molly Hooper got the job at the book store for a summer between semesters at med school, but it's the mysterious well-dressed man who makes her decide to keep it. Who is this man, and what are his secrets? And why is he acting like such a jerk to Molly? Eventual Mollcroft, T just to be extra-safe.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Wow, another fic started. I'm beginning to feel like a genuine fanfic author! CX Anyways, if you didn't read the description this fic is an eventual Mollcroft fic. Don't like it don't read it. Used book store AU because there aren't enough of those going around. Enjoy my madness that brings fluff, angst, and yelling at a ship going "WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?! YOU TWO ARE MADE FOR EACH OTHER!" ...Because that doesn't happen often enough in the actual show.**

**And a special thanks to steffy2106 for giving me the bolstered courage to publish a fic with my arms spread wide open for your opinions on my OTP. Speaking of which, read her (pretty sure she's a she...) Mollcroft fic, Unexpectedly Expectant. Lots of feels, but it's totally a-ma-zing!**

**...I'll shut up now...**

When Molly applied for the position at the used bookstore _Something Old, Something New_, she wasn't looking for any type of adventure, romantic or otherwise. She was simply trying to find a job to help her pay through med school, after which she planned to find a job as a pathologist. But paying for med school was easier said than done, and because of her time at school, she was often forced to work odd hours that her bosses didn't appreciate paying her for. She had been bouncing from job to job for months, and she finally had the summer off to work any hours she liked, provided she could get a job.

The man who gave her the position at the book store seemed very nervous, and gave her a generous wage considering she would be working from 6 until the shop closed at 10. The other workers informed her that was the graveyard shift, and despite the pay very few people lasted long in the place. Today had been her first day on the job, and she had met some rather nice students looking for books they'd need in college next semester, and she was even considering taking up one of their offers for coffee when the bell rang through the shop one last time for a customer that night. Molly checked her watch: it was already 9:00. The shop would be closing in one hour. She was hoping it'd be sooner, but if she knew one thing, it was very easy to lose track of time in a book store. The man in question who'd walked in was unlike the other patrons. He wore a three-piece suit, and had an umbrella hooked around his elbow even though it didn't look like it was going to rain for another week. But the thing she noticed most was his hair. It was very deep orange, almost red in certain lights. She briefly wondered if he was Scottish, before he looked over and spoke to her in a clear British accent. "I'm sorry, it doesn't look like you'll be able to close early tonight, once I start glancing over a book, it's very hard for me to stop reading."

Molly just nodded and moved to rearrange some of the books that had been taken down but hadn't been bought that day. She slowly and methodically moved through the shelves, first working through non-fiction, then moving into fiction in opposite order of her favorite genres. When she finished romance, she was just about to move into mystery when she checked her watch. It read 9:50. She silently panicked and looked over to the register to see if the man was waiting for her to hurry up. He wasn't. She moved into the mystery section she saw him again, reading one of those new novels everyone was talking about written by that overnight author named Sherlock Holmes. "Sir?" she asked timidly.

"Yes?" he didn't look up from the book.

"I'm sorry, but it's about closing time, and I need to finish putting the books away, you see…" she trailed off.

He chuckled once, dryly, and shut the book with a thud. "I see. Can't get rid of me soon enough, can you?"

Molly blushed. "No, that's not what I meant at all-"

He put the book back on the shelf. "I know, I just wanted to see you blush. A bit of an initiation on this shift is always meeting me, you see, and I wanted to find out if my predictions about your personality were correct. Turns out, you're an open book. Good evening." He left the store quickly, laughing quietly to himself.

Molly turned red with anger. Just who did this man think he was? He had no right to treat her like that! Is this why the pay was so good, and why nobody stayed in this job for long? Well, she'd show everyone. She was better than this mystery man. She'd find out who he was, and she'd put him in his place. She turned out the lights and locked the door on the way out. This job wasn't going to be easy, but if putting up with everything meant paying for school, she'd put up with anything. Little did she realize her whole world was about to turn upside-down.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, this ship is so loving! Hope you guys don't mind my weirdness, it's going to show in later chapters. And by the by, I usually thank everyone who reviews on my chapters in the next chapter. Probably should have said that up front. For now, I'll do group thank-yous that's just a list of names, but if you want me to do personal ones, or maybe just drop it period, I will. But I also might stop doing it if I consistently get 5+ reviews. It gets to be a little long. Like right now, for instance.  
**

**So, TheShallowGamer and cornishrexmomma, thank you so much for your reviews, I was admittedly very nervous about posting this and am now trying to hold myself back from too many chapters being posted at once, because I don't want to run out. :P**

**But all you guys deserve another chapter, so I won't leave you waiting...yet.**

The next day Molly woke up, feeling refreshed and a little more cheerful. A good night's rest always helped her clear her head, and thinking back on the last night, she considered maybe she'd not given the right reaction to what that man had said. She giggled when she remembered his hair, that deep, deep, orange, and decided to call him Ginger, at least until she found out his real name. "Well then, Ginger," she said, laughing, "I guess we'll be seeing each other again very soon."

That night, there was another girl working 4-8, and Molly told her about what had happened the night before. The girl looked at her sympathetically, and looked like she wanted to punch that man until Molly said, "But I'm not letting Ginger get one over me again!"

"What?" The other girl said, laughing.

"I didn't catch his name, but his hair is so vividly ginger. And I can't just keep calling him 'that man,' can I?"

The girl laughed. "Well, Molly, you certainly know how to make the best of a situation, don't you? Listen, I've got to go. See you Saturday? That's my next shift."

"Yeah, I'm working here all week, so I'll see you then."

"All week?!"

"Med school isn't cheap, you know!"

"OK, OK! See ya, Moll."

"See you, Lucy."

Molly watched Lucy leave and went to sort books. If she started this early, she'd have less to do later and just maybe-

The bell rang and Molly inwardly sighed, not even wanting to look yet to confirm her suspicions. Last night rushed into her mind like a tsunami, in all of its humiliation and pain. "Are you still here? The shop appears to still be open and I doubt anyone could replace your position so fast."

"Suspicions confirmed," Molly muttered under her breath. She turned around and gave her best fake smile. "Are you going to buy something today, or did you just come back to spite me?"

This took him off guard. "I-I beg your pardon?"

"No, thank you. No matter how you look at it, you were very rude to me last night. And as much as I've moved on, I'm not quite so ready to forget it." She smiled again. "But if you're here to buy a book or even just read for two hours, don't let me stop you, go right ahead!"

She turned around and continued to shelve books. She heard him turn and head for the door, then stop. She kept shelving. _Don't look at him, Molly Hooper, you're stronger than that._ He muttered, "I may have been wrong about you after all. I'm very sorry." The words surprised them both.

Molly turned and glanced at him sideways. He wouldn't look up from the floor. "You and me both, Ginger, but I need this job and you're not about to stop me from keeping it."

He looked up, amused. "Are you talking to me?"

"Well, I never got your name out of you." Molly shrugged, smiling genuinely now.

"Mycroft. My name's Mycroft."

"Well, Mycroft, as much as I appreciate your apology, you're still a massive jerk. I don't know if you realize. But I need this job. A lot. And you being snarky just to get a reaction out of me isn't going to work out well for either of us. So, go buy something, read something, or generally leave me alone. Otherwise I'll have to kick you out."

"…OK, yesterday _was_ uncalled for. I'll leave you alone for an hour or two."

"Music to my ears, Ginger," Molly said as she moved to the next row of shelves.

Mycroft winced. "Please don't call me that. You know my name now."

"I'm calling you Ginger or Mike. Mycroft is a little stuffy for my tastes."

Mycroft sighed. "I'll leave you to it, then."

"See you soon, Ginger."

The rest of the night went uneventfully. Mycroft left 10 minutes before 10 without a word, disappointing Molly. She wanted at least one more jab before closing time. She leaned against the counter and heard a rustle of paper. She looked down and saw a note from Mycroft.

_I'll be back again tomorrow, don't think I'll always go quietly. –MH_

"Is that a promise, Ginger?" Molly whispered. She locked up and went home, dreaming of books and men with umbrellas and what might happen when she got enough money to pay her tuition and stopped working at the book store. She couldn't imagine anyone else putting up with Mycroft, and she couldn't imagine leaving the job, even though it was only her second day. _But,_ she figured, _I'll cross that bridge when I come to it._

Across town Mycroft was laying in his bed, thinking much the same about the new girl at the book store, who looked like such an open book and yet was completely unpredictable. He couldn't think about what might happen if she were to leave her new job, the bookstore wouldn't be the same.

That thought stopped him in his tracks. _Since when did she matter that much?_ He couldn't see any reason why she should, and pushed those thoughts aside for the time being. He'd figure out sooner or later what he'd do about this new girl, and how he felt about her. _Because there's no way I could feel anything for a girl I met yesterday, is there?_ But he left the note, and apologized, something even his mother had a hard time getting him to do a lot of the time. He tossed and turned in bed, as his thoughts mimicked him, until he fell asleep fitfully.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Typed up another chapter today, so I'm posting one to keep the number of chapters I have stored even. Thanks to darthsydious, steffy2106, and my 2 guest reviewers for making me all excited about the review counter going up! And to my guest reviewer Mae, since I can't PM you, I was toning down what bullies at my middle school did to me, but I incorporated your input into a later chapter, so your voice did not go unnoticed.**

Mycroft walked into the store the next day to find two employees working the graveyard shift, much to his surprise. He saw a young man with Molly, but the owner, Mr. Kazembe, only told him about Molly; who was this man? And why was he flirting with Molly? Molly looked over and gave him a half-wave, half-move along gesture. As he walked by, he heard her laugh and say, "Shh, Jim! He'll hear you!" and then it all became indistinct murmuring.

He took up his usual post in the back of the store by the mystery section, but didn't feel as at ease as he usually did when he went back there. He looked over and saw Jim and Molly talking and his heart sped up. Is that what was really putting him off? Molly talking with some other guy? Why did he care? He shouldn't, that was the answer, wasn't it? So many questions were running through his head; and he didn't have the answers to them. He picked a book up of the shelf and started reading it to try and drown out his thoughts. As he started reading, he was relieved to see it was a book he recognized: Murder on the Orient Express, by Agatha Christie. Today was definitely a day for a classic, not to check up on his little brother's writing.

He was halfway through when he felt someone nudge his shoulder. "What do you want?" he asked coldly. Perhaps a little too coldly.

"It's closing time again, Ginger." Hurt was written in Molly's face, but he couldn't care at the moment.

"Fine. Could you ring this up for me?"

He didn't look at her the rest of the night. She handed him the book and he walked out stiffly.

Molly watched him leave and bit her lip. What happened to make him so cold? Jim seemed nice, sure, but there was something about him that left her a bit uneasy, and she'd turned him down. Several times: that boy didn't know when no meant no. But he wouldn't care about that, unless maybe he knew Jim and got the wrong idea about her because she laughed at a few of his jokes. It couldn't be he'd thought they were together, could it?

* * *

Mycroft hadn't come into the book store in a week and a half, and Molly was getting more and more curious about what had happened to the one interesting person on the graveyard shift. She asked Mr. Kazembe, and he said he had no idea. He sent her a look like he thought she might be keeping him away. She blushed and left his office quickly, not entirely sure why everyone thought they were a couple, even Jim had come back once yelling at her about "Not just saying you had a boyfriend in the first place!" He didn't even work there anymore, she found out later. Mr. Kazembe thought he was too violent and unpredictable to be a wise choice for the job. She was really thankful she'd chosen to not go out with him.

She heard the bell ring and looked up hopefully. But she didn't see Mycroft, she saw a man about her age, maybe a little older, looking around frantically. He saw her and walked up to her. "Have you seen my brother?"

She just stared at him. That wild, untamable hair, the Cupid's bow lips, the cheekbones… "A-are you Sherlock Holmes?"

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yes, I am. Now _have you seen my brother_?"

She blinked and shook her head, her mind catching up with the reality of Sherlock Holmes actually talking to her. "Wh-who's your brother?"

"He wears a three-piece suit, carries an umbrella even if there isn't a cloud in the sky, has really ginger hair-"

"Wait, Ginger is your brother?"

This stopped Sherlock in his tracks. "Ginger? You call Mycroft…Ginger? Why? Oh, you're not dating, are you?" He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

She huffed and crossed her arms. "No, we're not! Why does everyone think that?!"

"Well, the fact that you've already given him a nickname helps…now when was the last time you saw him?"

"Around a week ago."

"That can't be right. Think again. He _always_ comes here after work, _always_! He wouldn't just suddenly change his schedule!"

"Mr. Holmes, I haven't seen your brother in a week. I'm sorry-"

"No, no, NO! He HAS to be here! He isn't at his house, there's nothing in his planner that says anything about a book promotion, certainly not one that lasts this long! He HAS TO BE _HERE_!" Sherlock was shouting by the end. Molly had backed her way into the wall behind the register, scared that he was going to hurt her.

She took a breath and tried to speak calmly. "Mr. Holmes, I have not seen Mycroft for a week. I am positive, and I work here every night until closing time. If he comes back I can give you a call, if you want, but until then I can't give you anymore to go on than I already have. Okay?"

He mutely nodded.

"Well, then, you can look around, or you can continue to look for your brother elsewhere. But I can't do anything more to help you."

He nodded again, which Molly took to be a thank-you, wrote his number on a sticky note, then walked out of the store without another word.

She looked down at the number, written in messy yet somehow obsessively neat handwriting. _When he isn't in a rush, his handwriting must be really clean,_ she thought. She sighed and got to work closing the shop. She walked out of there, a million thoughts all fighting for dominance in her head. Unbeknownst to her, a shadowy figure was watching her across the street in an alley, following her back to her apartment.

When Molly got back, she decided to Google her mystery man. She tentatively typed in 'Mycroft Holmes,' shocked at what she saw. She jumped when she heard a crack of thunder outside. She really hoped Mycroft had the sense to hide out somewhere during the storm. Then she heard a knock at her door. _Who could it be at this hour?_ she thought. She opened the door a crack and gasped at the man in a hoodie on her front step, too shocked to do anything as he forced his way in and shut the door behind him, staring at her. When he saw she was about to scream, forced his hand over her mouth. "Shh!" he hissed. And Molly did the only thing she could think to do: she passed out in the man's arms.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: All right guys, you've waited to find out what's happened to Molly and to wonder where Mycroft's been for a few, I think it's high time you found out. My thanks go out to my Guest reviewer, cornishrexmomma, eac-dudette, TheShallowGamer, and warrioroftheravens. All of you are complete lovelies. Now, without further ado, let's get into the thick of the next chapter!**

Molly woke up an hour later with a splitting headache. She stumbled out from her bedroom-when did she get there? Was this all just a dream?-to find Mycroft soaking wet and sitting on her couch. She screamed. He jumped and turned to look at her, eyes wide with terror. He put a finger over his lips and raised his other hand to show he was unarmed. "Please don't call the cops!" he said in a rushed whisper.

"Give me one good reason not to, considering you just BROKE IN TO MY HOUSE!" Molly practically screamed.

"If I remember correctly, you didn't object when I came in after _you_ opened the door for me."

"Gee, maybe because I was too busy FAINTING! Why would you even be here anyway?!"

"I-I needed a place to stay and you were the only one left on my list, no one else would even talk to me, so I followed you home from the book store-"

"That's it." Molly whipped out her cell phone and typed a text to Sherlock: _Your creep of a brother followed me home tonight. Can you come get him? –Molly (The girl from the book store)_

"What are you doing?"

"Texting your brother."

"What?! No!"

"Now who look isn't keeping his voice down."

Mycroft hid his face in one of his hands. "You can't call my brother. If he finds me like this, I'll never live to see the light of day again!"

Molly looked at him, a little confused. "I'm surprised a big-time publisher like you wouldn't have a place to stay for a night."

He looked through his fingers. "So you looked me up?"

"Your brother came looking for you at the bookstore today. That's how I got his number, and your last name to do a little research."

"I-I do have an apartment across town, but I can't use it."

"Why not?"

Mycroft looked like he was just about to answer when a knock sounded at the door. Both of them could hear a muffled voice saying, "Mycroft, open up!"

Molly went to open the door, and Sherlock ran in, taking the full view of his older brother. "Mycroft, when was the last time you took your medication?"

"What?" Molly asked, confused.

Sherlock sent her a look saying he'd explain once this was over. "Mycroft, when was the last time you took your medication?" he repeated patiently.

Mycroft looked a little like a young child who's been caught stealing a cookie from the pantry as he admitted, "5 days ago."

Sherlock walked over to him and looked down at the mess of his brother on the couch. "Take your pills, now."

Mycroft shook his head. "I don't have them."

"That's easily resolved." Sherlock held out his hand, where there was a prescription bottle for some medication Molly couldn't quite make out. "Take it."

"No."

"Mycroft, take it, now!"

"I don't want it."

"Mycroft!"

Mycroft took one and dry swallowed it, glaring up at his brother. "Do you have your medical information?" Mycroft rolled up his sleeve silently to show a chunky metal bracelet.

Sherlock grabbed him by the arm and began to lead him out of the house. "I'm so sorry about my older brother," Sherlock said to Molly, "When he forgets to take his medicine he starts to get a little unpredictable and can cause all sorts of trouble. I hope he didn't hurt you?"

"N-no, no. He just gave me a fright," Molly stammered.

Sherlock nodded. "I'm sorry about this." He dragged Mycroft out the door and Molly could hear yelling after she closed it.

She went to her bathroom and splashed water on her face. "Is this even happening, or am I still dreaming?"

She shook her head and changed into more comfortable clothes for sleeping, double-checking that all entrances to her flat were locked. She fell into her bed and slept with her light on that night, wondering just what she had accidentally gotten herself into.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: You guys are lucky. While I'm trying to type up my other fic and failing horribly, you get nice shiny chapters a lot. Some things coming later are the reason I rated this T to be really safe. You can't tell by looking at the first chapters, but my mind can be twisted as well as fluffy. I won't say anymore yet, sorry but you'll have to wait. Thanks to TheShallowGamer and my Guest reviewer for saying they really enjoy this. Though, to my Guest reviewer, I'm not amazing at writing longer chapters. The longest I've gotten that I can think of off the top of my head is just about 100 shy of 2,000. Admittedly, chapter 4 was shorter. And some of my upcoming chapters get a little longer, but I don't have control of how much I write, I'm more of a gardener writer than an architect writer, to use George RR Martin's terms. (I think they're his terms. I can't be 100% since it's been a while since I've seen them.) But I try to update often, if that's any consolation. As for your other question, hopefully it answers what you were getting at, if not, I'll try to clear it up next chapter. For now, though, we have to check up on the publisher and the med student!**

Molly didn't want to go to work the next day, but she knew she needed the job, and maybe Mycroft wouldn't show up. No such luck, although he did come in at the beginning of her shift rather than the end, and Sherlock was with him. The few patrons in the store started murmuring at the site of Sherlock and the other workers that were just about to leave went over to him to see if it really was him. Mycroft walked away to the back corner, where Molly was waiting. He jumped when he saw her, then turned beet red and refused to look at her. "What are you doing back here," he whispered.

"Schizophrenia, am I right?" Molly said, ignoring his question. "That's what you have, and why you need the medication."

Mycroft winced and nodded. "Sorry about last night…sometimes I forget my medication and…well, you saw the rest."

_I saw him at his most vulnerable,_ she realized, _and that's something he prefers to keep a secret._

She held out a book under his nose. He gently took it and read the title. "What's this?" he asked.

"A book."

"Well I can see _that_," Molly laughed at the tone in his voice, "I mean, why are you handing it to me?"

"It's a mystery novel about a man with schizophrenia who is at an old-fashioned party, and single-handedly solves the murder of the host. I thought 'He likes mysteries, maybe he'd enjoy something where he might be able to relate to the characters and enjoy his favorite genre at the same time.'"

Molly smiled inwardly when she saw Mycroft hold the book slightly closer to his chest. "Thanks. Really, thanks. How much does it cost?"

"Oh, don't worry about it. I've got it covered."

Mycroft looked up in shock. "But…no, you need the money from this job, I can't just accept this for free…"

Molly laughed. "You're not."

Mycroft blinked. "I'm…not?"

"No, because I know for a fact that you're a publisher, I just don't know where for. You love mysteries, so I would think that is the genre you publish. If you don't recognize this and don't have it, since the look on your face when I described it said you'd never heard of it before, that crosses one publishing firm off my list."

Mycroft gave her a half-smile. "I could just tell you, you know…"

"But where would be the fun in that?"

Mycroft looked like he was about to speak but just then Sherlock came around the shelf and said, "Come on, brother dear, we have to go."

"In a minute," Mycroft said irritably.

"No, not in a minute, now. Mummy called and said she wanted to see you in less than an hour. We've got to go."

Molly laughed. "Go on, you can't be late to seeing your own mother. We can talk again some other time."

"See you soon-Sherlock! Don't pull so hard!"

Molly doubled over laughing at the sight of Mycroft being dragged along by his younger brother. The others in the store turned and looked at her; she covered her mouth in a futile attempt to stop the giggles. One of the patrons asked, wide-eyed, "Do you know Sherlock Holmes?"

"I think it's fair to say I know his brother better."

The teenage girl (she looked too young to be over 16,) nodded appreciatively and pushed her glasses back up her nose. "Respect increasing," was all she said as she walked out of the store, some books in hand. Everyone else in the store soon congregated around her, wanting to know more about this mousy girl who actually knew a famous author and his brother. She tried to give as much information as she could, without feeling like the question intruded on either one of the Holmes's privacy. It got to the point where she had to kick everyone out at 5 'til 10 so she could clean up. She rolled her eyes once everyone was gone, then smiled as she remembered the faint smile in Mycroft's eyes as he held the book she gave him.

"He probably won't be around by himself for a while, not until his medicine starts working again." She told herself this over and over, but still when she thought about seeing him again, her heart skipped a beat and then leapt into overtime. She couldn't wait until Mycroft walked back through those doors.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: You guys were awful quiet last time around...did I throw you for too much of a loop? Sorry about that. Thanks to my lone guest reviewer and yes, I will be adding flashbacks later in the story, but we're not at that point yet. And yeah, my imagination softens Sherlock's character quite a bit. I didn't like him being that abrasive to me in my fantasies, so I made him nicer gradually. Now it's hard to write him otherwise.**

**Hope you all continue to enjoy this story!**

Mycroft did indeed walk through those doors, three days later, alone, and taking his medication with a stern warning from his mother fresh in his mind. He looked over at the register, and smiled at Molly. That would have been unthinkable two weeks ago. If he was being honest, he was usually worse with the new employees, sometimes throwing in a deduction or two if they got too close, so he never really got a chance to know them as well. He was glad he didn't go so far with this one. Molly was more sensitive, and much more forgiving, if what he remembered of the night he showed up at her house was anything to go on. "Hey, Ginger. Liking the book I gave you?"

He laughed. "As a matter of fact, I finished it already. It was very good. I'm surprised I hadn't heard of it before."

"Well, don't think that means I'm going to be doing all the weeding out of bad books so you can get to the good ones."

"Whatever you say, Moll."

Mycroft walked (waltzed, really) to the back of the store and Molly followed him with her eyes. He'd never called her Moll before, and she wasn't sure what to make of it. And he laughed when she called him Ginger, as opposed to wincing or even just standing there uncomfortably. When did he stop reacting to her teasing? And more importantly, he broke into her apartment, why wasn't she freaked out when they were alone in the store? She shook her head to try to clear the questions from it. She walked over to reshelf books and finished with time to spare, today had been a slower day, thankfully. She walked back to find Mycroft absorbed in another book. "So, Mycroft…" she said quietly.

He jumped. She giggled. "Good book?"

"It has a sequel," he said, the pleasure evident in his eyes.

"Pretty sure it's a series," Molly said, trying to suppress a smile. Mycroft's happiness was contagious.

His eyes widened and he laughed like a child might when they come downstairs for the first time Christmas morning to see Santa Claus came in the night. "Does the medication still need a few days to fully kick in?"

"My grip on lucidity is still a little loose, yeah."

Molly smiled so hard she was worried her jaw would hurt the rest of the week. "You want to go out sometime?" the words were out before she could stop them.

Mycroft looked up incredulously and Molly blushed. "S-sorry! Can we just pretend…I didn't say that…?"

Mycroft let the book, now forgotten, slip from his grip, and he blushed as he scrambled to pick it back up. "I'm going to have an awfully hard time forgetting that, Moll."

Molly face palmed and tried to stammer out another apology. Mycroft gently pulled her hand away from her face. "Though, if your question were to be forgotten, could it be forgotten if I said yes?"

Molly looked at him and blushed. "Neither of us is amazing with people, huh?"

"Nope."

"You think that we could fix that by hanging out with each other?"

Mycroft smirked and said, "I doubt it. It'd just probably make us worse."

"I want to get worse," Molly said quietly.

Mycroft cupped her face and leaned down for a kiss. It was short, but both could feel fireworks before they slowly stepped back. They smiled softly, as if one wrong move and the shop would tell everyone about what happened. Molly looked up into Mycroft's eyes. "Did this really just happen?"

Mycroft chuckled and sang, "Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught up in a landslide, no escape from reality?"

Molly laughed, the moment over. "Now I must be dreaming. Mycroft, singing? This can't be real."

Mycroft cocked an eyebrow. "Since when did you start calling me Mycroft instead of Ginger?"

"Since when did you call me Moll instead of Molly?"

"Fair enough."

Molly looked at the clock. It was 10 past 10. "I've got to…um…lock up…Can I call you tomorrow?"

Mycroft pulled out a business card and wrote something on the back. "Work phone on the front, personal on the back."

"Thanks." Molly grabbed a sticky note pad from her pockets and wrote her number on one. "Here's mine."

"Do I get a good night kiss?" Mycroft teased.

"Only if you meet me at the café on the corner for lunch tomorrow!" Molly flirted, cocking her hip.

"Consider it done."

Molly planted a quick peck on his cheek. "Well then, I look forward to our lunch date tomorrow."

"I'll be up all night thinking about it, that's for sure," Mycroft said, heading for the door.

When they both thought the other was out of ear shot, they gave a little laugh at the impossibility of what had just happened to them. Both of them heard the other, and smiled knowing that tomorrow was going to be something special.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: These two are so cute no matter what universe they're in. Don't tell any of my other stories I've updated you guys, they might get a little jealous or impatient. ;) Thanks to cornishrexmomma, my Guest reviewer 101, Empire of Fiction, and TheShallowGamer for the lovely reviews last chapter.****You might not be feeling so gracious by the end of this one, but then again, who knows? I've left you in strange places before.**

**Enjoy!**

Molly woke up the next day feeling refreshed and happier than she'd felt in a long time. She wondered once again if she was dreaming, then when she realized she was still wearing yesterday's clothes, checked her pants pocket. The business card was still there. She showered and changed, then picked up her phone as she started to make breakfast. She filled in Mycroft's information on her contacts list, then sent him a quick text: _Good morning, Ginger. –Molly_

She was sipping her coffee as she got a reply: _Morning, Moll. Ready for lunch around noonish today? –MH_

_You know it. And now that I know your number, I'm going to be pestering you throughout the day to see if I know what publishing firm you work for._

Mycroft laughed as he read the text. He sent back: _You can try, but you'll never get it._ Then he realized he was lying on Sherlock's couch, and failed to cover it up with a coughing fit. Sherlock looked over at him as he walked out of his room wearing nothing but a bed sheet. "What is it now, brother dear? Your imaginary girlfriend flirting with you?"

"Actually, it's a very real girl texting me and she and I are going out for coffee later today."

Sherlock stared at him trying to figure out whether his brother's medication should be upped until a text alert dinged letting them both know Molly replied. Mycroft grinned in triumph. "See?"

Sherlock stared at him, then strided over and grabbed his phone checking to see if there was actually a text. There actually was: _Challenge accepted, Ginger._

"Hey, that's mine!" Mycroft said indignantly.

"She lied to me when she told me you two weren't together," Sherlock muttered to himself. Then, to Mycroft, "Mycroft, I have you stay over here to make sure you aren't getting into trouble while you are recovering from not taking your medicine for a few days. But if you're just going to sit here on the couch and giggle while you text your girlfriend all day, you can go back to your own flat."

"Well, you're the one who won't let me go to work and make me stay here and try to do everything from my laptop," Mycroft sulked. "Besides, I'd love to go home and get away from you, Mummy is the only reason I'm still here."

"Which is why you need to stay. You're medication is the only thing keeping you from behaving like a complete child."

"So why did you immediately agree with Mummy when she said I'd be staying with you? If I'm such a bother, I mean."

"…"

"…That's what I thought."

Sherlock turned and went to get changed in his room. Mycroft smirked, grabbed his laptop, storing it in his briefcase, and walked out silently. And if Sherlock worried, all the better. It was just revenge for everything he'd said the past 5 days. He tried not to dance down the street as he walked toward the café. He couldn't bear to wait and maybe they had access to Wi-Fi…

* * *

Molly spent a good hour trying to decide on hair, make-up and clothes. In the end she didn't change anything, just went with how she usually did her makeup, and the only significant change was that she kept her hair down. She sat around her house, called some of her friends to get all excited and pumped for her date, but when all was said and done, she still had a good 20 minutes before noon, when the lunch was happening.

She glanced at the clock and considered that if she left now, and walked the whole way there, she might only be 5 minutes early. The only problem would be walking and not running to the café. She couldn't wait to see Mycroft!

* * *

When she did get there, she was 10 minutes early, having tried to not run over and given up halfway through. She walked inside and saw Mycroft sitting in a corner, staring at his laptop. She walked over silently, and sat down at the table, waiting for him to notice her. He glanced up, then did a double take. "You're unusually good at surprising me," he tried to say over Molly's laughter.

Once she had calmed down enough to speak, she said, "I didn't peg you as a café person."

"I'm not."

"Then why did you agree to come?"

"I wanted another kiss last night."

They both grinned. Then Molly quickly ordered and a silence fell between them. "You were early." Molly stated.

"I couldn't stand waiting around."

"Neither could I."

"Well, clearly you had a little more self-control; I've been sitting here trying to stay calm for a half hour."

"I really doubt that. I failed at walking over here; the slowest I got was a jog. I nearly ran into a taxi while crossing one street!" Molly joked.

"You really shouldn't do that, Moll. Where would I be if you weren't here?"

Molly didn't have an answer to that. She just tilted her head to the side, appearing to be deep in thought, allowing Mycroft to catch up with what he just said.

"Oh! I didn't mean it like that, Molly! So sorry if I made you embarrassed…"

Molly didn't reply. After a while she shook her head and said, "I have no idea."

"What?"

"I'd have no idea where you'd be. I don't even know where you live."

Mycroft ducked his head, feeling extremely sheepish. "S-sorry, some people say I get too passionate too quickly, kind of like Romeo, I didn't mean to make you feel un-"

"Shut up," Molly said softly. She leaned in and kissed him, gently, barely a brush on his lips. But it was more than enough. When Molly leaned back Mycroft said, "That was a really nice way to tell me to shut up."

Molly giggled lightly. "Well, you are sensitive, Ginger. I'd hate for your feelings to break you apart."

They smiled and talked for another hour before saying their farewells. Little did they know across the street was someone who had dark intentions in mind as he followed Molly away from the café, and as soon as no one was looking, he grabbed her off the street. She tried to scream and wrestle herself from his grasp. She really wished it was just Mycroft again, but she could feel this man was shorter, and Mycroft couldn't get into a place to change, double back, and get to her so quickly without her hearing his footsteps. The man dragged her at gunpoint to a car waiting at the end of a side street, taking her to an abandoned warehouse. When he released his hand from her mouth, she was about to ask who he was but then she was gagged, and bound to a little plastic chair. Finally the figure spoke: "Hello, dearie. Did you miss me?"


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: So...two things causing me to update: 1) You guys were nice enough to review and now I've kept you waiting 5 days to see what's happened, and 2) During my first full-on-all-nighter due to insomnia running ramped, I have actually written the rest of the fic in its entirety. I might due some editing later, but the basic plot is all finished. Thanks to cornishrexmomma, autumnmom, and Empire of Fiction for your lovely reviews! Beware...there will be feels!**

Molly's eyes widened at the man's voice. "Nah, you wouldn't miss me, of course you wouldn't…you're too busy with your new boyfriend." Jim stepped forward and allowed half of his face to show in the light. "Not so keen to reject me now, are you?"

Molly pulled against her restraints, desperate to get free. "Oh no, dearie, don't do that. I'd hate to have to use force to get my point across…" he pulled out a knife, and Molly's eyes widened further. She slowly stilled. "Good." Jim said, "Much as I have a tolerance for blood, I'd hate to have spilled yours. I always fancied myself a bit of a criminal. But not like one of those who you hear about in the news over in America with all the shootings, oh no. They're messy, and sloppy, and have no respect for the job itself. I prefer to think of how I do these things as an art, a craft…I feel the word to best describe me would be…a psychopath."

Molly tried to hold back her tears. She should've known the way Jim didn't accept her saying "no" that he'd be a danger to her. Now it might be too late for her to do anything about it. Jim walked closer and started to invade her personal space. "Now don't cry, my dear. I'm not going to hurt you. Well, not _yet_ at any rate," he threw the knife away. "We're going to stay here for a day or two then you and I are going to go somewhere else. Can't stay in one place for too long, you see. But I have friends who'll let us crash at their place for a couple days, and by that time I'll be looking for a flat we can stay in for longer, so long as you behave."

He moved to trace his hand down her face longingly. She moved as far away as she could while being tied to a chair. Jim's eyes got harder. He reached for her again and again she moved away. He grabbed her arm harshly. "That's not behaving, Molly. I'm not going to do anything remotely like what you're assuming at the moment. I may not be a 'nice guy,' but there is a code of honor for criminals that I intend to keep."

Molly stared at him angrily, but didn't do anything else. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"

Molly chose to assume that wasn't rhetoric and shrugged.

Jim sighed. "It's a start." He started to walk away, calling over his shoulder, "I've got some work to attend to, don't think of escaping while I'm gone."

_Wouldn't dream of it,_ Molly thought sarcastically, _I'm a little tied up at the moment anyway._

Then the thought struck her that no one knows what's happened to her, and Mycroft will be expecting to see her at work tonight. _Oh no oh no oh no…Ginger, I didn't stand you up, I've been kidnapped by a psychopath!_ Molly pulled at her restraints again, to no avail. She started to cry, not because of the situation she was in, but because she knew that this would be like a slap in Mycroft's face, and she wouldn't want him to be crushed. _But that's exactly what's going to happen. And I can't do anything about it…_

* * *

Mycroft walked into _Something Old, Something New_ that evening, smiling and hiding a book for Molly in his briefcase. He thought he should return the favor of her book recommendation. His face fell when he saw not Molly, but Mr. Kazembe sitting behind the register, going through a book, scrutinizing for damage. "M-Mister Kazembe, hello."

The man in question looked up and smiled. "Hello, Mycroft. Here to read again today?"

"Um…no, I…Molly, you see, uh, she introduced me to a book series I find I'm enjoying, and I wanted to return the…favor…she isn't here?" Mycroft could have mentally kicked himself. He just practically screamed they started dating.

Mr. Kazembe's eyebrows rose suggestively. "So you two _are_ going out! Lucy owes me 10 quid. But no, she isn't here. Which brings me to a strange thing I want to get your opinion on…"

"A…strange? Thing?" Mycroft could feel his brain running on a faster track already, and it was hard for him to keep his grips on the reality going on around him.

"She didn't call to say she couldn't come in. I've called her home number, several times. She isn't there. Or if she is, she isn't picking up. I don't know what's gotten into her. She can date you; the girl can tolerate anything."

"Thanks," Mycroft said dryly.

"Oh, you know what I mean, Mycroft! You purposefully are rude to all of my employees the first day! Do you have any idea how much I've had to raise the pay to convince people to stay for a week until I can get a replacement?" He laughed. "You always seem to have words to spare, but with this girl, you go speechless! She's really something special…"

"And she isn't here." Mycroft hung his head. _Is she standing me up? I thought today went so well…_

"Oh, cheer up, Mycroft. Maybe something came up in her family, or for school, and isn't home."

"I have her cell number. Do you want to try it?" Mycroft asked, offering his cellphone.

"Thank you." Mr. Kazembe took the phone and dialed the number from Mycroft's contacts list. "…No reply. That's really weird."

Mycroft got a sinking feeling in his stomach. Something was wrong. "A-are you sure? I saw her today at lunch, just down the street, in fact. I didn't hear her mention anything going on with her plans tonight. There shouldn't be a reason why she isn't here!"

Mr. Kazembe handed Mycroft back his phone. "Mycroft, just go home. Something probably just came up and she isn't available to pick up her phone. You are taking your medication, aren't you?"

"Of course! I'm not an idiot! But I might go to Molly's place before I go home, just to make sure she's okay. For my peace of mind."

Mr. Kazembe nodded as Mycroft walked out. As soon as the door was closed, he called Sherlock. He couldn't afford to take Mycroft's word; he'd lied about taking his meds before. Sherlock said he'd check on him, and hung up. Mr. Kazembe sighed and started to lock up. He hoped Mycroft didn't get in over his head again. It was a shame that he had schizophrenia; it was a real crutch for him. Without it, he could probably be a very famous actor, or a powerful politician, or something of the like. But as it was he had to have his every action questioned and an eye on him at all times.

* * *

As it was, the eye at the moment was Sherlock, and he was wondering if he'd have to chain his brother inside the house. He found Mycroft outside that girl's-what was her name…Minnie's?-flat writing a note and slipping it in through the mail slot in the door. "Mycroft."

"Sherlock."

"What are you doing here? Haven't you scared this girl enough already?"

"She wasn't at work and I wanted to make sure she was all right. When she didn't answer, I wrote her this note so when she came back she would see it. I was just about to go home."

"Mycroft, you can't keep bothering people like this. Have you ever considered she might be avoiding you?"

"If she were avoiding me then why did she go out to lunch with me today?"

"Mycroft, I think your medication needs to be upped. I don't doubt she's texted you, I've seen that for myself. But it's highly unlikely she'd want to date the likes of you."

Sherlock could read into Mycroft's body language and could tell he was about to lash out. "No. I'm telling you the truth. We went out for lunch together today. We talked for at least an hour. We even kissed! And then she doesn't show up at work and she isn't answering her phone. Something's wrong!"

"I'm sure it is," Sherlock said, trying to placate his brother. "How about I call the police when we get back to the flat, yeah?"

"You won't. You never believe me. Something's happened to Molly and you won't help! Do you even want her to be safe?!"

"Mycroft, keep your voice down. The last thing we need is for someone who knows Molly to hear you and freak out."

Mycroft's face started turning red. Sherlock knew what was about to happen and clamped his hand firmly on his brother's mouth to keep him from yelling, then dragged him out of the apartment building to an idling car, and forced him in so they could go back to the relative safety of Sherlock's flat. Mycroft was yelling at Sherlock the entire car ride, and Sherlock rode it out, waiting for either Mycroft to run out of things to say and sulk silently, or the slow of the car to signal they were about to get back. As it turned out, Mycroft continued to yell well into the night, and even when Sherlock carried out his threat to call Mummy, he just redirected it at their mother. When Mycroft passed out from exhaustion after midnight, Mrs. Holmes took Sherlock aside and said, "I think he's getting worse. Is there anything we can do for him?"

Sherlock looked over at Mycroft, draped over the back of the couch he was sitting on, a frown etched deep in his face even when he was sleeping. "I don't know, he seemed to be getting better, though he did mention something about a lunch date this morning."

"Do you think we're going to have to…?"

"I don't know. We've been able to put it off, but I don't know how much longer he can act remotely lucid. And if his medication has to be much higher, Dr. Watson is going to have to get him some sort of help around his house, and it'd just be easier to institutionalize him."

Mrs. Holmes sighed and seemed to grow 10 years older. "We might be able to give him a week? See if he's just experiencing a bad day that the medication couldn't help with yet?"

Sherlock sighed, knowing that it wasn't just a bad day, but nodded anyway, not willing to break apart the family just yet. He walked over and nudged Mycroft awake, got him to swallow his medication, and let him fall back asleep again, this time lying with one arm off the couch, and one leg hooked over the opposite edge. Their mother left, and Sherlock sighed, calling up Dr. Watson to arrange a meeting tomorrow morning at the flat. He agreed, knowing if Mycroft was getting worse, he needed attention as soon as possible. Sherlock fell into his bed, wondering even in his dreams just how far of the edge Mycroft had jumped, and if there was any way they could get him back.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: This chapter made me almost cry a little first time around, still makes me sad when I edit it. But you guys need to know what happens next, regardless of my own feels. And just so you guys remember, I only used a couple of Google searches for like, the entire fic. My research skills are okay, but I don't know enough to say much of anything with certainty, k? My word isn't to be trusted for how it actually works in these situations. Thanks to cornishrexmomma, TheShallowGamer, Van39MaxKatAlex4, and my Guest reviewer for reminding me every time I went to check on other stories, people read this one and are waiting for the next part.**

John Watson knocked on the door to Sherlock's flat and sighed, checking his watch. It was 8:00. Why he couldn't be just opening his office now and was instead standing outside his most difficult patient's brother's flat, he couldn't wrap his head around. He got a call at 12:20 last night telling him Mycroft had gotten considerably worse, and he needed help right away. He knocked on the door again. This time he heard footsteps, and a door opened as far as the chain on the inside would allow. "Wha'd you want?" a voice slurred with sleep said from the other side.

"Mycroft, it's Doctor Watson. Can you let me in? Your brother wanted me to come."

"No."

"Sorry?"

"Nothing against you, John, but if Sherlock has called you over here he doesn't believe a word I said last night and is convinced I'm paranoid and delusional, even though I'm taking my medication every day." He stressed the last part.

John sighed. Not only because it was futile to get Mycroft to address him formally, but if Mycroft was stressing his taking his meds, he must have skipped a couple of days quite recently. "Well, we can talk through the door or we can talk inside, or we can take a walk and talk if it's okay with Sherlock, but I need to know what you said last night to make him so worried."

Mycroft stared at him a moment, then shut the door. John groaned, until he heard some rattling with the chain and realized Mycroft was just having a hard time unlocking the door. Which he supposed was a good thing if Sherlock expected him to stay inside for the night. Another moment and he could hear the chain sliding away and Sherlock opened the door. "I was about to get it," Mycroft sulked and walked away into the living room. Sherlock invited John in and offered him tea, which he gladly accepted. Then, tea in hand, he walked into the living room to find Mycroft sitting on the couch and sulking. "There's nothing wrong with me!" he spat. "Well, nothing more than normal…"

John inwardly sighed that at least this session was starting similarly to all the other sessions they've had. "Mycroft, no one is saying anything is wrong with you other than what normally is."

Mycroft looked up. "So everyone thinks I'm getting worse?"

John sighed audibly this time.

"I'm not getting worse!"

"I never said you were, Mycroft. Could you tell me why everyone thinks that?"

Mycroft curled up into a ball and stared at his shoes. "It's 'cause of Molly," he mumbled.

"Sorry? Who's Molly?"

"She's a girl I met about two weeks ago. At the book store." John nodded his head to show he understood, Mycroft sometimes had trouble interpreting the less obvious body language signals when he got really confused. "Anyway, she and I got kind of…off on the wrong foot, but we were learning kind of how to act around each other, you know? And then…" Mycroft broke off.

"And then?" John prompted.

Mycroft shifted.

"You skipped your medication, didn't you?"

He nodded reluctantly. "That's why I'm here and not at home. But I wasn't thinking right and followed her to her house…" John nearly choked on his tea, but kept a straight face so Mycroft wouldn't notice and could finish the story. "And Sherlock came and picked me up, and I've been on my medication since! And I went to her at the store and apologized, and we made up quickly, she even recommended a book to me," he pulled a book off the table, "And I finished it in one day it was so good, and I went back to the store two days ago by myself (Sherlock was there the first time,) and we were talking about how the book was actually a series and one thing led to another and we…kissed."

John really choked on his tea this time. Mycroft looked over with concern but John waved him off and cleared his throat, cueing Mycroft to continue. "Then we talked a little while longer, exchanged phone numbers and set up a lunch date for yesterday. We texted a little first thing in the morning, had lunch, talked for at least an hour, and I thought it went well…But then she wasn't at the store last night. I asked Mr. Kazembe (the owner of the store) where she was, because I thought I'd return the favor of the book recommendation, except she wasn't there, and she wasn't answering her phone at home, or her cell phone, so I went to her flat to see if she was okay-and I waited outside to see her, I'm not about to break into her house!-and she wasn't there. So I left a note on the off-chance everything was all right and there was just an emergency that popped up-even though I doubt it-and then Sherlock came and we fought because he couldn't see something was wrong, but I _know _something isn't right. See, I still haven't gotten a call or text from her, she hasn't been home, can't you see-"

"Mycroft, calm down, you're going to hyperventilate." John tried to get the taller man to stay sitting down, to no avail. He got up and started pacing and muttering to himself in a frenzy, forgetting anyone else was in the room. John stood in front of him and he froze like a deer in headlights. John gently steered him toward the couch, and Mycroft curled up in a ball again, muttering to himself about all kinds of different reasons why the girl he talked about could be missing. John knew this was Mycroft's way of thinking things through, but the way he was talking so fast and so passionately lead John to worry there was something else fueling Mycroft besides his tendency towards curiosity. He motioned for Sherlock to come with him into the kitchen so they could talk. "Well, he's either telling the truth, or his delusions have strengthened to an extent I've never seen with him before."

Sherlock seemed paler than he normally did. "You can't tell the difference?"

"Usually Mycroft has at least a little bit of doubt that his delusions could be just that, as well as other indicators, like him behaving a little more childish, as we've both seen often enough. But this time, he's convinced of his opinions and only shows great concern-I can't even tell if he's feeling anything else or if this is consuming all of his thoughts."

Sherlock's head fell. He knew what this meant, and he was hoping it wouldn't come to this. "It's time, isn't it?"

John swallowed. "Sherlock-"

Sherlock waved him off, though John could tell it was taking all of his strength to stay strong. "We've been friends since before Mycroft started coming to see you. You know I won't want any pity." He looked back through the doorway to the kitchen. "It's just…I always held out hope, no matter how small, that he wouldn't have to give his life up because of some stupid mental disorder."

John grabbed his shoulder and nodded. "Do you want me to tell him, or do you want to tell him?"

"No, you tell him. I'm going to have to tell the rest of the family, I don't want one more person's guilt on my shoulders."

John just nodded numbly again.

Sherlock excused himself to his room, muttering, "I need to call them." As John walked back out to Mycroft. He had stopped muttering, but was still fixated on his shoes. "You're going to take me away, aren't you?"

"I…yes, Mycroft, I just can't trust you to be safe around others anymore."

Mycroft sighed and hid his head behind his knees. "Could you at least look at my phone to see that Molly is real and she really texted me? I'm not making this all up."

John swallowed thickly and did as he was asked. At least that part of Mycroft's story was true; he hadn't gotten a message from a Molly Hooper since early yesterday morning. John looked over at Mycroft and back at the phone. "I can give the police a call, if you want. They'll have to know about your…condition," Mycroft snorted, "But if she's not back at work and the owner gets concerned and he calls in, they might at least start a search, does that make you feel better?"

Mycroft nodded, not lifting head above his knees. "The medication isn't working…" he said.

"Sorry?"

Mycroft looked up, and John could see he was crying. "I'm not delusional, I'm not talking about that, I can't…I mean…"

John knew what he was trying to say. The child that seemed to take over part of Mycroft's head when he didn't take his medicine was clearly out now. "Nothing works with you for long, does it?"

Mycroft didn't respond. John grabbed his hand and said softly, "Come on, let's go."

Sherlock walked out of his room as he heard footsteps, and saw Mycroft with tears in his eyes waving good-bye to him as he walked out of the flat with John and into a black car waiting outside, and Sherlock watched as his brother left Baker Street and went to the psychiatric hospital he and John had talked about many times before. He could still hear his mother crying on the phone line as she realized exactly why Sherlock was calling. He closed the door to 221B leaving a note on the door letting Mrs. Hudson know not to come in for the rest of the day, as he composed a melody on the violin for Mycroft, knowing that at this point, about all he could do for his brother at this point was find different ways to lessen the culture shock at the hospital when he steeled his nerve enough to visit.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hey, guys! I've been falling in and out of a funk for a while now, but since almost everything is done in this story except for editing, I figured I'd give you guys the next installment. Thanks to AmandaDo'Urden, my lovely guest reviewer, Van39MaxKatAlex4, and cornishrexmomma for being nice enough to tell me what they think. Now, on to the story!**

Molly woke up to someone shoving her on the shoulder. "Hey, wake up. I said wake up!" Jim was trying to wake her. To what end, she didn't even want to know.

Molly cracked her eyes open as far as she could. She learned by way of a black eye that you didn't deny doing something for Jim for very long. She looked up at him from where her head had lolled to the side when she fell asleep in the little plastic chair. Her look screamed _you'd better have a good excuse for waking me up. I'm exhausted_.

Jim sighed and started untying her ropes. She'd been tied up for two days and felt her phone buzz on vibrate at least 10 times now. Hopefully someone had realized something was wrong and had called the police. "Someone reported seeing me near here multiple times yesterday. The cops have started to patrol the area. We have to go." But as soon as Molly's arms and legs were free, she promptly turned around and kicked Jim right in every man's sweet spot. He curled up and groaned, and she made a mad dash outside, not even trying to untie her hands from behind her back, wanting to get a safe head-start above Jim first. She ran outside, straight into a cop. They sprawled on the ground, and the man started to get up and seeing her hands to start untying her. Molly sobbed with relief when he undid the gag around her mouth. "Thank you so much! Please, the man in the warehouse kidnapped me off the street two days ago, and I want to go home so badly!"

The police man told her to wait as he went inside the warehouse. He came back out 10 minutes later, saying, "I've called for backup, he's handcuffed to that chair that you must have been tied to."

Molly nearly collapsed when she heard that. "Sorry, I'm a little dizzy…" Molly muttered weakly as the officer helped her up.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"M-Molly H-Hooper…" she said.

"I'm Detective Inspector Lestrade. We got multiple call-ins about you, Ms. Hooper. The very first one came yesterday morning from a schizophrenic, so we didn't believe you were missing at first, but as more and more people called, you actually reached the news, somehow. You're gone for two days and you're news story goes viral!" He laughed as he led her towards a police car.

"You said the first call was from a schizophrenic?" Molly said hopefully.

"Actually from his doctor. If I remember, I think he was admitted to a psychiatric hospital the same day because his behavior was concerning his family."

"What?!" Molly stopped in her tracks.

"Do you know him?"

"He's my boyfriend!"

"Oh. Well then, the sooner we get you to the station the sooner we can clear his name. So let's go a little faster, if you can."

"He was recovering when you handcuffed him, wasn't he?"

"Yeah. Now let's go."

"I can't move any faster! I haven't had anything to eat since lunch two days ago! I'm surprised I'm still standing at all!"

"And you need a lot of help with even that."

"Jim does not know how to take care of a woman, even if she isn't kidnapped," Molly decided.

Lestrade laughed. "Come on, get in the front. We can get you any care you might need when we get to the station."

*insert line*

Molly turned out to be almost completely fine, all things considered. She was moderately dehydrated, and a little malnourished, but the doctor they had called in to check over her decided she'd be fine after a few days rest and a few slightly larger meals. She was filling out a report for her kidnapping when a blonde man walked up to her and asked, "Sorry, are you Molly Hooper?"

She looked up. "Yes, that's me. May I help you?"

"Actually, yeah." The man sat down next to her. "I'm Dr. John Watson, Mycroft's psychiatrist before he was admitted to the psychiatric hospital."

Molly narrowed her eyes. "Yes, I heard he was admitted. How is he?" Her words were casual, but there was a slight icy edge underneath that John didn't miss.

"His being admitted was not my first choice, Ms. Hooper. He experienced a psychotic episode that was deeper and appeared to be more realistic to him than I have ever seen him have-when I first saw him he wasn't _half_ as bad as then."

"So, what did you want to see me for?"

"Well, in our last session, he mentioned a girl named Molly who worked at the book store he went to. I asked the owner about it and he said that girl was you."

"That's right."

"Well, I just want to confirm some things with you to see just how far this episode affected him."

"You mean like whether it altered his memories, or whether they were replaced all together, things like that, right?"

John was surprised. "Yes…how did you know…?"

"I got the job to help pay for med school."

"You don't seem the fresh out of college, thinks-they're-the-best-in-class type of med student."

"And you don't seem like you could have gotten your degree in psychiatry for another few years, yet here we are."

John's mouth twitched up in a smile. "I see your point. So, you do work at the book store, you have met Mycroft, which means you work nights there. Um…he mentioned getting off on the wrong foot?"

"Yeah, he was rude to me the first time we met. Abrasive, slightly manipulative. We made nice within a few days, still sometimes using a jab or two, but it was more teasing than serious."

"Okay. Did he follow you home about a week ago when he skipped his medication?"

Molly snickered. "Yeah, he nearly gave me a heart attack! But he didn't hurt me, he just wanted a place to stay and wait out the thunderstorm that night."

John nodded. "All right, doesn't seem completely insane, most people will do similar, although usually with someone they know better. And you made up quickly after that?"

Molly shrugged, "What can I say? I know he wasn't in his right mind, no damage was done except to my nerves, and at least I knew a good book series to recommend after that."

"That was my next question."

"Sorry, but I'm just recounting what happened. The next time he came into the store was four days ago, when we kissed and set up a lunch date the day I was kidnapped. We were flirting a bit beforehand as well, if he showed you the texts and were wondering what that was about."

"Then what?"

"I got kidnapped walking home from our lunch date."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"No harm done."

"…That's what he recounted to me when he told me the story when Sherlock called me to an emergency meeting that made me decide to have him admitted…"

"So you admitted him for nothing?!"

"Well, he also let the other part of his schizophrenia out, whether he was telling the truth or not."

"Is it a…voice or something similar of a child?"

John thought this woman would never stop surprising him.

"I saw him off his medication, remember?"

John sighed and shook his head. "He had been taking his medication when I saw him. It wasn't working anymore, and I've rotated it for several years now. This helped him at first, but the size of the dose I'd need to give him now could make him OD if he wasn't careful. And he isn't careful, especially off his medication."

Molly nodded her understanding. "I guess you had good reasons. Would I be able to see him?"

"Only if I came to watch him. You going missing is what sparked his episode in the first place, who knows what would happen if you suddenly shifted his world back again."

"Maybe I could see him in a week? Don't let him near anything that says I'm back beforehand, though. I want to be the one to tell him."

John laughed. "You might be a little insane yourself, Ms. Hooper. I can arrange for you to see him in two days, would that be enough time for you to recover as well?"

Molly smiled. "I won't consider myself recovered until I can see my boyfriend again."

**Haha, total cop-out! Did I get you guys? I couldn't bring myself to write Molly being captive to Jim for long. So I did this a while back. Keep a look out for Molly and Mycroft meeting back up again soon!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: This chapter is unrepentant fluff left and right. Mycroft is such a cutie when he's vulnerable. Certainly getting closer to the end... ;-; But never fear! We still have about 10-ish chapters until the wrap-up. A thank-you to my reveiwers Van39MaxKatAlex4, SphinxyWilliams14, and cornishrexmomma and we'll be off. Wait...I suppose I just kind of thanked them there, so...um...*coughs* let's get on with it.**

Mycroft groaned as he fully awoke in his room-if you could call it that. He wasn't allowed to have anything in here except a few things from around the hospital they couldn't get him to put down and two manuscripts his PA brought him. He could still read them and edit mistakes, if he couldn't do all the other functions of an editor effectively. Then the noise that woke him up sounded again. It was a knock at his door. He tried to get out of bed but just succeeded in getting tangled in his sheet and falling on the ground. The nurse who was knocking poked her head in and laughed. "Just wake up, did you?"

Mycroft groaned and said, "What do you want now?"

"Mycroft, it's noon."

"So? There's nothing for me to do here besides sleep!"

The nurse sighed and looking back behind the door said, "You can see he's feeling more like himself already."

"Who is that?" Mycroft tried to get himself untangled. "Who are you talking to?!"

John poked his head in and waved. "I just wanted to see how you're doing. It has been almost half a week."

"I'm bored out of my skull."

John sighed and nodded. "Yeah, it's not exactly a great place for entertainment, is it? I wanted to talk to your psychiatrist here personally, tell him what's what; I might come back before I leave."

"And you needed to wake me up to tell me this, why?"

John smiled conspiratorially. "No reason."

"You're hiding something from me, aren't you!"

"I have to go." John quickly left the room, smile still on his face.

John looked at Molly and told her, "Are you sure you want to be alone with him?"

Molly nodded. "Positive. You'll be right here if anything happens, which it won't. I have faith in him."

"You've known him for a month!"

"Doesn't make it any less true."

John sighed and made an "after you" gesture while asking the nurse if she could have something ready if Mycroft did react badly.

Mycroft heard footsteps again but didn't look over. "What's wrong, John? What do you want now?"

The voice he heard startled him. "I'm not John, Ginger."

Mycroft turned quickly to see if that voice was actually connected to a body. It was. He tried to get up, but only got more tangled. Molly laughed. "Need some help?"

"If you're a hallucination please tell me now. I can't stand getting any more medication, and if you leave now no one but me has to know you were here."

Molly rolled her eyes and walked over. She placed her hands on Mycroft's shoulder blades and pushed him up to a sitting position. "Could a hallucination do that?"

"…They haven't before…?"

"…You sound hesitant." Molly sat on the edge of his bed, crossing her ankles and swinging her legs together.

"Molly, I don't know if you know this, but you went missing."

The tone of voice Mycroft took struck a humorous chord with Molly. It had a sort of childish trepidation, as well as a distinct conviction. Molly smiled, then tried her hardest not to giggle, failing horribly. Mycroft scowled and wormed his way out of the sheet keeping him on the ground and hopped to his feet crying, "What's so funny?!"

Molly had tears in her eyes as she pulled a newspaper out of her purse and handed it to him, folded to page 2. On that page was the headline _**Kidnapped Medical Student Found after Only 2 Days of Searching**_. Mycroft stared at it and said, "Now I must be hallucinating."

Molly patted a spot next to her on the bed. "Well, can you at least be polite and sit next to your hallucination to keep her company?"

Mycroft obediently sat and continued to stare at the newspaper. "How do I know if this is real? I-I mean, can you do anything to prove it?"

Molly's smile got a little mischievous as she said, "I can think of one or two ways…" she leaned in close to Mycroft and kissed him.

John came rushing in the room and said, "Hey! You're not allowed to snog with patients!"

Neither of them replied, Mycroft just wrapped and arm around Molly's waist as if to say _well __you're__ certainly not going to kiss her_!

"Molly, we have to go if you don't stop."

Molly smiled, but continued to kiss Mycroft.

"Anytime you two could come up for air…?"

Eventually John sighed and pulled Molly back. When she and Mycroft made eye contact, they both burst into giggles. John pulled her from the room, as Mycroft said, "That was the best 5 minute-date I've ever had."

John led her out and scolded her, but Molly couldn't care less if her life depended on it. She just nodded and smiled, remembering the electric jolt the kiss seemed to send through her. John sighed when he was done, knowing she'd probably kiss him the next time too, and that Mycroft was never going to let his psychiatrist hear the end of today's visit. He walked Molly home and went back to his office, lunch break over. He texted Sherlock how it went, and Sherlock laughed at the one sentence text that summed up everything he could ask John: _They wouldn't come up for air. -JW_


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Next chapter, guys! Let's do this thing! I'd like to thank cornishrexmomma, 101, Van39MaxKatAlex4, and SphinxyWilliams14 for your lovely reviews, which make me smile every time I read them. Now, for all of you, I believe we have a new chapter update!**

Molly was back at the hospital three days later, this time with the psychiatrist who was treating Mycroft, and Mycroft's brother Sherlock. "I still don't see why they had to come!" Mycroft complained, flopping on to his bed while pouting.

"We had to come because you've beaten everyone here who comes near you with a pillow or worse." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

Mycroft giggled and lied back on his bed.

"Try to act your age, brother dear."

Molly tried to stifle her own giggles at seeing everything going on around her. Sherlock gave her a look.

"Sherlock's here so he can make sure that doesn't happen again, I'm here to snog you out of the rest of your mind at the end." They both laughed at the memory that brought. The psychiatrist shot Molly a look that told her if she did one more thing wrong she'd be kicked out. She covered her mouth and tried to stop shaking, which the psychiatrist seemed to take as her getting as close as she could to what he wanted.

"So, Mycroft, you still haven't answered my first question."

"Which one was that? There were _so many_."

"How long have you known about your schizophrenia?"

"For as long as I can remember."

"That's not an acceptable answer."

"I'm telling the truth. No one else started to notice a real problem until I was about 15 or so."

"Everyone has make-believe friends when they're younger, Mycroft. Not everyone keeps them after they're 10."

_Do they see actual people playing with them and hear each and every one of their voices distinctly? Well, doctor? I'm waiting for your answer…_

Sherlock was calling his name from somewhere…or was that just his mind playing tricks again? He looked over to where he thought Sherlock was and saw instead Toby, one of the friends he used to play with when he was younger, the one his parents tried to insist wasn't real because he liked getting into trouble. Mycroft didn't mind getting in trouble for Toby, because then they'd hang out in his room and laugh about their latest prank they'd pulled off. Toby was pointing to someone across the backyard of the Holmes's house. A little two-year old Sherlock, who was poking a stick into the ground. "Go on, do it. What are you, chicken?"

Mycroft knew where he was. It was that time when he was 9 and he got in his first real argument with Toby. "I'm not chicken, I just don't want to hurt Sherlock!" he heard himself say.

"Mycroft's right." He turned and saw Sally, a little mocha-skinned girl with more passion than things to throw it in, the one his parents always asked him about when he did something bad, and whether or not she'd approve. "Sherlock's too little to understand what Mycroft would be doing."

"Oh, come on, sissies! He eats dirt willingly, how is this so different? He liked it last time, too!"

"And I got spanked last time for making him eat it, while you just stood by and laughed!"

"Just one little kick, Mycroft! It's not like he can tattle on you!"

"No!" Sally and Mycroft said at the same time.

Sally gave him a smile and nod and disappeared until he asked her to play with him later. She knew he wouldn't be doing anything else bad with Toby that day. "Mycroft, come on!"

"No! I'm not hurting Sherlock!" Mycroft remembered hearing the window at the back of the house opening, everyone's alarm bells suddenly going off. Including Sherlock's, and this turned into one big mistake.

He came over to close and asked Mycroft who he was talking to one too many times. Mycroft turned to tell him to shut up, and his hands, which were busy prior in the argument, swung wide and connected Sherlock in the face. Sherlock reeled back and stared at his brother, pure shock on his face. Just as Mycroft realized what happened, and his parents rushed out, his dad going over to comfort Sherlock, his mom dragging him to his room at a pace faster than he could run. When they were in his room she turned and closed the door, and he heard her speak in a quieter voice than he thought possible. He didn't like it, at least if she was yelling he could tell she was angry. She asked him if he had anything to explain himself, and he said he was arguing with Toby, and when he turned to tell Sherlock to go away, he accidentally hit him. She asked him what they were fighting about, and he said Toby wanted him to kick Sherlock, but he didn't want to, and was trying to get him to stop telling him to do it. His mother adopted a face of understanding, told him he only had to stay in his room for an hour since it was an accident, and she'd explain everything to his dad and Sherlock.

When she left, Sally was there to play with him, because she understood it wasn't his fault and was glad he didn't want to hurt Sherlock, and when the hour finished, Sherlock came in and hugged him, accepting his apology before he could give it.

The first time he heard his parents worrying was that night, when he was supposed to be asleep. He heard one word over and over he didn't understand at the time, but he'd soon learn to hate hearing: schizophrenia. They just knew by the time he was 15, he realized. That was just when they were trying to figure out how to tell him. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked over. He was back in the hospital, and Molly was sitting next to him, shaking him lightly. She sighed when he looked at her. "What happened, Ginger? You've been staring into space for 15 minutes at least!"

He didn't know quite what to say. How could he explain he just got thrown backwards into his own mind? "It's just…it…I…you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Molly looked at him and tilted her chin up. "Try me."

"Have I ever told you you're pretty when you use your backbone?"

"Mycroft."

"…I…um…I got pulled into my memories. Like, out of this reality and into another."

"I understand that."

"Really?"

"I did tell you I'm saving for med school next semester, right?"

"…Oh, yeah."

"Mind saying what it was about?"

"Nn…not to you…"

"Mycroft, you have to tell me what just happened if you ever want to leave." The psychiatrist started to try to reason with him.

"You two get out," Molly said. "Doctor, you leave your notes here along with a pen."

"What?!" the doctor spluttered.

Sherlock dragged him out and glanced at Molly. "For both of our sakes, your idea had better work."

"It will," Molly said with much more confidence than she felt.

After Sherlock left Molly picked up the notes and ripped a fresh sheet of paper out of the bunch. "Right, Mycroft. Here's what I'm thinking: you can tell me what happened when you zoned out, I write it down, and then Mr.-what's-his-name can read it and draw whatever conclusions he wants from it without you being scrutinized by him during your explanation."

Mycroft swallowed, then nodded. "You'll still be asked about it, but you can explain and get everything off your chest without being interrupted."

"Not even John let me have that much power in our sessions." Mycroft's eyes widened slightly.

"This isn't a session. It's a heart-to-heart in a relationship, okay? Don't think of it as something that doctors are going to analyze, think of it as crying on the metaphorical shoulder of a friend."

Mycroft smiled somewhat cheekily and said, "Are you sure you didn't just want to make out? We're now alone, in case you didn't realize." Molly smacked him with his own pillow. "Just tell me what happened."

He did, fairly quickly. Molly wrote it all down, then sat next to him. "Now we did everything we had to and we're still alone."

Mycroft smiled and was about to say something when Sherlock waltzed in yelling, "Nope!" and dragging Molly out by her shirt.

Mycroft groaned and Molly laughed. "I'll see you next time, then!"

"I don't want it to be next time; I want it to be now!"

"Grow up!" Sherlock yelled before slamming the door.

"Look who's talking." Mycroft grumbled.

His doctor came in and picked up the notes; including Molly's and walked out. Mycroft sighed and stretched out on his back, watching the white ceiling.

The doctor read what Molly wrote, and his eyes widened. He hadn't been able to get Mycroft to tell him this much using every kind of tactic he knew. He called up his supervisor and explained everything to him, asking him permission to add a certain med student on to his team. When he got the answer, he made a few calls, pulled a few strings, and suddenly Molly had a very important choice to make when she got home. If she had known exactly how big it would be, she might have not smiled when Sherlock told her some embarrassing things about Mycroft, she might not have laughed as she said they didn't matter to her. But as it was, she did, and that made her next decision all the harder.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Next chapter, everyone! I've been meaning to post this...but summer work. :P However, even though school starts next week, I still plan on updating. Work might just get in the way first. I'd like to thank 101, SphinxyWilliams, and Van39MaxKatAlex4 (I think I've actually memorized these usernames by now) for their continued reviewing. And now...chapter 13!**

Molly heard her phone ringing as soon as she walked through the door to her flat. She picked it up cheerily. "Hello?"

"Ah, Molly, that's you isn't it?"

"Yes, Dr.…um…sorry…"

"Wyatt."

"Yeah, sorry, Dr. Wyatt. Why are you calling me so soon? Is something wrong with Mycroft?"

"Besides the obvious?" Dr. Wyatt laughed drily. "No, no. He's fine-relatively speaking. I'm actually calling about you."

Molly's mouth dried up. "M-me?"

"Yes. You seemed to have a knack with being able to get Mycroft to talk."

"Well, talking to someone he could trust-someone he could consider a friend-probably helped."

"Yes, well, I was wondering, do you think you could do the same thing with some of the other patients?"

"I-I suppose I could try, it would probably depend on the patient…"

"Well, if you can, I have an offer for you."

"Really?" Molly's interest was piqued.

"Yes. If you can repeat the process, I'd like you to come on the hospital staff as my assistant. I'd be more than willing to pay your tuition for medical school, and only ask you help me until you graduate."

Molly was speechless. The greatest gift had just been offered to her, she'd be able to finish med school without worrying about tuition anymore. "Well, you see Dr. Wyatt, as much as I'd love to accept, I'm training to be a pathologist, not a psychiatrist."

There was a stretch of silence on the line. "I did say only until you graduate my dear, I have no false hopes about what you want to do beyond that, I will not try to get you to stay, but the experience would also look good when you are applying for a job, if you'll excuse me for being shallow."

"Well…I…it's just a lot to take in, you know? I know it will help, it's just a big decision for me."

"Of course, I understand. Just know that my door is open. Maybe we could talk after Mycroft's next session, since you have at least agreed to that much before."

"Y-yes. Thank you, Dr. Wyatt."

"Goodbye, Ms. Hooper."

"Goodbye."

Molly hung up and sank into her couch, thinking about what just happened. She had just gotten what she had tried to do for years-and failed-at the drop of a hat: medical school tuitions all paid up and no more worries about deadlines on debts. But at what cost? She had just started to enjoy working at the bookstore, and after all, once Mycroft was safe on his own again, that was the one connection she'd have with him. But she couldn't handle both jobs at once, no matter what she'd like herself to believe, she wouldn't last long at one or the other, and forced to choose under pressure, she might wind up with neither. She looked at the clock and sighed. Already she was running behind for work, she'd have to get dinner on the way over and finish it before her shift started somehow.

When she got to the job, everyone could tell that something was wrong, but no one could get her alone long enough to ask her what was wrong. No one, that is, except Mr. Kazembe. When it was 9:30 and their last patron left the store, Mr. Kazembe flipped the open sign over and turned off the outside lights. "Mr. Kazembe, what if someone wants to come in?" Molly asked, knowing what he wanted and not willing to confirm it.

"The only one who would come this late is Mycroft, and I haven't seen him here lately, have you?"

Molly sighed. "No, I guess not."

"What's wrong, Molly?"

Molly fiddled with her hair. "I got a job offer from a psychiatrist as his assistant to help me graduate med school, but I'm not sure if I should accept."

"Why not? It's going to help you graduate school, and that's why you took this job, to help you pay for tuition? What's holding you back?"

"…It's Mycroft."

"What about him? Surely you can tell him you've gotten a different job, you two are going out know, it's not like quitting this job would mean you'd never see him again."

"But, I mean, anyone else getting this job…"

"Molly, look at me." Mr. Kazembe cautiously brushed Molly's hair out of her face. "I didn't expect you to last long at this job. Truth be told, I didn't think you'd make it past the first day. I have a very long list in my office of people in need of a job because Mycroft made it hard to keep any of them for long. I can find someone else to deal with Mycroft when he comes back."

Molly nodded and gave a half-smile.

"And know that even if you quit, you're always welcome here as a patron."

Molly smiled completely now. "Thanks, Mr. Kazembe."

"Does this mean I'm getting your letter of resignation?"

"I guess so. But know that if you're ever in a pinch for the graveyard shift, you can give me a call, I can cover for a day or two."

"I'll keep that in mind. Good luck, Molly."

"Thank you, Mr. Kazembe."

There wasn't anything left to say between the two of them. Molly left all but her nametag at the store that night, and Mr. Kazembe waved her off, hoping that wherever that girl went next, it'd make her life better because of it.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Wow, you guys were all excited for the next chapter and then I don't update for a month! School started and I've been spinning around and around trying to get things done and this just kept on slipping from the ol' memory banks. Sorry! I'd like to thank Van39MaxKatAlex4, 101, cornishrexmomma, and somevelvetmorning for your reviews, and so sorry again that I've been gone!**

Two days after Molly quit her job at Something Old, Something New she was standing outside Dr. Wyatt's office waiting for him to come out and talk to her. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally did. "Ms. Hooper, nice to see you again."

"Call me Molly please, Dr. Wyatt."

"I'll only call you Molly if you call me Gordon." Dr. Wyatt winked.

Molly flushed and fiddled with her hands. "I'm just joking of course, Molly."

Molly laughed nervously and nodded. "Yeah, that's what I thought. I considered your offer…and I accept."

"Wonderful! When can you start…?"

"Anytime you're ready. I resigned from my other job earlier this week."

"Well then. You will of course be working with Mycroft today, and then maybe after you explain everything to him I can introduce you to some of my other patients."

Molly nodded, relieved that this was going to go smoothly. Dr. Wyatt led her out of his office, and down to Mycroft's room. Sherlock raised his eyebrows when he saw them walk up together, but if he thought anything, he didn't say it. All three walked in, to find Mycroft not in immediate sight. Molly's heart stopped for a second before she saw him hiding under his bed. Molly sat on it and looked between her legs. "Mycroft, what exactly are you doing?"

Mycroft moved his head to an angle where the light bounced off his eyes and you couldn't see anything else of him. "I was…I…"

"Yes?"

"I have no good excuse."

Molly giggled. "Coming out?"

"Nah, I kind of like it under here."

Dr. Wyatt sighed and said, "Mycroft, please come out. It's inappropriate."

Mycroft imitated his sigh and said, "Dr. Wyatt, please don't control my every action. It's stifling."

Molly tried not to smile at the way Mycroft still managed to have a comeback for anything anyone could throw at him. Sherlock walked over and stood right in front of the bed, "Brother dear, come out, or I might just have to call Mummy."

Mycroft shuffled under the bed and moved away from Sherlock. "Mycroft!" Sherlock exclaimed, thoroughly exasperated.

"What? I thought you wanted me to come out from under the bed?" Mycroft said, popping up on the other side.

Sherlock just shook his head and left the room. He figured he wouldn't even be needed and he didn't feel like putting up with his brother today. This session went about as well as the last one, except Mycroft didn't zone out during it. After Dr. Wyatt left, Molly wrapped her arm around Mycroft, and gave him a half-hug, half-squeeze. Mycroft looked over to her with slight confusion and concern. Molly belatedly realized that could be interpreted as a sign of bad news. She steeled herself, then looked over at him and blurted, "I have something I need to tell you."

"A-are you breaking up with me?"

"What?! Mycroft, no. No, of course I'm not breaking up with you."

"But…couldn't Dr. Wyatt make you stop seeing me if you're helping me?"

"Maybe, but it hasn't come up yet, so I'm not planning on quitting on us yet."

"Then what's making you so…filled with dread?"

"I…quitted my job at the book store."

Mycroft just stared at her. Just stared. He didn't so much as bat an eyelash. Molly realized he must have remembered something again and just sat there, waiting it out.

Mycroft was indeed remembering something. He could hear the beat of a drum and saw bright flashy lights everywhere. He was 18, his first time at a club. He had snuck out to be there, but luckily the bouncers mistook his apprehension of being caught as nervousness for the first time he'd been out to a place like this. He had sat down at the bar, and the bartender poured him a glass of some drink he couldn't remember the name of. He hadn't heard from his voices all night, which was a relief. He drank a little too fast and the world got a little fuzzy before clicking back into focus. "Careful there, son. Don't want to go too fast on your first drink."

Mycroft took a breath then nodded, rubbing his head.

"Did you come here alone?"

"Yeah, snuck out from my parent's to see a friend."

"Well, I don't condone sneaking out, but as long as there's someone sober to drive you home, and you're old enough to have a drink…"

"Yeah, yeah." He took another, smaller sip from the drink. It wasn't as bad, and everything stayed in focus. It actually felt kind of nice when it tingled his stomach. He couldn't remember too much after that. He danced with different girls, all of whom were certainly nice but none of them really interesting enough to date. He remembered stumbling out of the club when the voices in his head started to get a little louder; he didn't want to get into an argument with himself, not after having a few drinks. Everyone would get the wrong idea. His whole world had been tipped upside-down, and it was more than a little frightening. He could hear Sally the loudest of all, "You shouldn't have done that, you know. Now who's ever going to trust you?"

He got back in the house and up to his bedroom without confrontation, but when he woke up in the morning the voices in his head were louder than ever, and everything was too bright and too loud, and when his mother came up to check on him she just knew. She scolded him and made him come down to the living room and sit there with all the windows wide open. Sherlock took one look at him wasted lying on the couch and burst out laughing. He knocked Sherlock on the head and rolled over. The voices had gotten louder and weren't going to quiet down for a while, and that was only when the child in him decided he would be the one in control of the voices and Mycroft when he didn't take his medication. Now his world was turning on its head again, and taking a much, much worse turn.

He blinked rapidly, sending away the memory and replacing it with him room, which had quickly become a comfort to him when things like this happened when he was alone. Molly smiled sympathetically and pulled out a notebook and pen. "Ready?"

Mycroft nodded and said everything except what he drew from the memory. Molly nodded when she finished, then said, "You didn't hear where I was working instead, did you?"

Mycroft shook his head and debated just shutting her out. But he thought that wouldn't work out well for either of them. "Where are you working?"

"Here, for a full scholarship. Dr. Wyatt's going to pay for my tuition, and all I have to do is be his assistant until I graduate." She gave him a peck on the cheek, and left the room. She handed the notes to Dr. Wyatt, and he thanked her. He let her wander after he gave her a key card, and she said hello to the different patients, getting them to warm up to her, unaware Mycroft was following her with a blush that could give a tomato a run for its money, hoping against hope he could get away with following her, just to make sure she wouldn't disappear and take this startling news with her, back into some dark twisted corner of his mind.


End file.
